


Through the Eyes of the Blind

by thesnowman_108



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, It's Just Sad for a While, Might be a While, More tags as more Story is written, Peeta Dies - AU, Victor Katniss, Work In Progress, working on it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 18:16:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14218926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesnowman_108/pseuds/thesnowman_108
Summary: An AU in which Katniss accidentally murders Peeta at the end of their Hunger Games and has to live with this. She's also forced to become a mentor and all sorts of fun angsty stuff.I'm going to attempt to regularly update this, so we'll see how that goes. It's a bit of a slow burn in terms of story progression, so if that ain't your jam just letting ya know.





	1. Katniss, The 74th Hunger Games, final moments

A mockingjay gives the long, low whistle, and tears of relief fill my eyes as the hovercraft appears and takes Cato’s body away. Now they will take us. Now we can go home. But again, there is no response.  
“What are they waiting for?” says Peeta weakly. Between the loss of the tourniquet and the effort it took to get to the lake, his wound has opened again.  
“I don’t know,” I say. Whatever the holdup is, I can’t watch him lose anymore blood. As I stop to grab a fallen arrow, Claudius Templesmith’s voice booms into the arena.  
“Greetings to the final contestants of the 74th Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed,” he says. “Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor.” There’s a small burst of static and then nothing more. I stare in disbelief as the truth sinks in. They never intended to let us both live. This has all been devised by the Gamemakers to guarantee the most dramatic showdown in history. And like a fool, I bought it.  
“If you think about it, it’s not that surprising,” He says softly. I watch as he painfully makes it to his feet. Then he’s moving toward me, as if in slow motion, his hand pulling out the knife from his belt-  
Before I can really think, my bow is loaded and the arrow flies. It pierces his throat, blood bubbling out of his mouth. Peeta widens his eyes in surprise. Now I see the knife had already left his hand on its way to the lake, where it splashes into the water. I stand there a couple seconds, still poised. I just stop. The world just stops. But not Peeta. He just slows down, falling in between seconds. I can’t move. I’m too shocked by what I’ve done.  
Then Peeta falls, hitting the ground with a thud. I flinch at the sound, still staring straight ahead. I can’t see though. Everything’s gone blurry. But I can see that a puddle of blood has begun to form. He’s still moving. Drowning in his own blood.  
I can’t breathe. My throat has constricted, like I’m being strangled by chains. And I still haven’t moved. Why aren’t my arms moving? My legs? Why haven’t I tried to stop the bleeding? Maybe at this point I just know. That I’ve killed him. That my hands wouldn’t be able to save him.  
Boom. A cannon fires in the distance.  
It takes me a few seconds to collapse. To realize that he isn’t coming back. My body keels over, finally breaking down after all these hours. I hear the vibrations, the vague echoes of Claudius Templesmith’s voice as The Capitol cheers for me. The Victor.  
And hands are grabbing me, forcing me up the hovercraft ladder. I don’t see them. I just look straight forward, at some point far ahead of me. They take me to a white room, where I sit alone on the cold floor. An attendant asks me if I want a beverage. I ignore her. I think she leaves.  
I see a face in the shattered reflection of the crystal doors. My face. Empty. Gaunt.  
I think we land. Someone comes up behind me. I let them drug me. I want to sleep.  
I’m wake up in a room of soft yellow light and all I can think is I want to go back to sleep. Just keep sleeping, until the end of time. I just want to stop existing.  
So I just lay there, awake, while I wait for something to happen. To make me just do something.  
Someone comes. The redheaded Avox girl. I barely acknowledge her. She comes over to me and presses something that raises my bed up. She places a tray in my lap and fluffs my pillow. I can feel her eyes on me, the judgement and disgust. I know it’s there. I don’t even need to look.  
She leaves and I am alone again. I want to sleep, to just let go, but my eyes won’t close properly. Everytime I close them someone’s eyes are looking back at me, out of the darkness. Peeta’s. Rue’s. Cato’s. The people I killed. Who I couldn’t save. So I stay awake, just so I don’t have to see them.  
I can’t fall asleep.  
It’s like that for a couple days. Avox Girl comes in every once in a while to check on me. I don’t look at her. I don’t want to see the blame. Really, it’s just really boring. Nobody but the Avox girl bothers to come and see me in my little cell. But I kinda don’t want them to see me anyway. They hate me now.  
I think it’s been several days when they finally release me from that room, let me walk around and do something for once. I slip out of the bed, nervous about how’ll they’ll hold my weight, surprised to find that they’re strong and steady. At the foot of the bed lies an outfit that makes me flinch. It’s what the tributes wore into the arena. I put it on anyway. Better than meeting my team naked.  
I dress fast and step outside, into a wide, deserted hall that appears to have no other doors on it. I walk down the hall, looking from side to side. No one.  
And then around a corner, I see them. Effie. Cinna. Haymitch. The Prep Team. All gathered in a large chamber. When they see me they run over, congratulating me and telling me how sorry they are about Peeta. Effie’s crying.  
I drown them out, looking only to Cinna, then Haymitch. Cinna is waiting, on the edge of the happy crowd, biding his time so he can have a moment with me. Haymitch doesn’t even look at me.  
Effy leans over and hugs me joyously, tears falling down her weirdly pale cheeks. “Oh, I knew it! My pearl!” And she just embraces me harder. I’m numb. I just let her hold me. “Then she takes my face in her hands, her voice simpering and sweet. “I’m sorry about Peeta. He was a great kid.” I nod. She smiles again, kissing my forehead. Daft fucker.  
Finally she steps back, dabbing her eyes as Cinna steps forward. And I just collapse into his embrace, burying my head into his chest. No tears spring from my eyes. I just let myself sink into his warm embrace. From another room, Portia appears, carrying what seems to be an unassuming yellow dress.  
It’s better than the garish and contrived costumes of before. This one, when I try it on, is like candlelight. Simple, but amazing.  
I don’t deserve this.  
I can feel Haymitch looking at me, judging me. I can hear him in my head. “Peeta should have won. Peeta was a better person than you’ll ever be. You’re worthless in comparison, Sweetheart.” And I agree. I’m a failure. I could have saved Peeta. Or at least taken his place, let him kill me. But I didn’t. I killed him myself.  
Flavius breaks me from my thoughts, handing me a simple pair of flat leather sandals. “Now it’s perfect!” I admire myself in the mirror. The dress is amazing. But even after getting fixed up, I can’t help but notice how thin I am. How weak I feel. The hollow look where my skin lays over my bones.  
And then my team is pushing and shoving, flailing about as they try to get me to my crowning on time. I don’t really know what to do. They just kinda do it for me, dressing up my hair and putting color into my skin. Then we go, off into the elevator and up to the Crowning.  
Cinna guides me to the wings of the stage. My heart flutters a bit. I know they’ll show it all again. Every death. I don’t want this. But Cinna grasps my shoulder, giving a firm hold on something familiar. I lean into him, desperate for a hold on something good in this world. Calmly moving to my ear, he whispers, “I’m right here. If you need something to look at, just look at me.”  
I turn to him, a hint of a smile gracing his newly glossed lips. “Thanks.” It’s quiet and raspy from lack of use, but I know he hears my voice. He smiles in return. Then the music comes on.  
Caesar Flickerman is illuminated in the sudden flash of light, his once blue hair dyed to look like actual fire. I have to admit, I’m impressed. It looked simply amazing. Smiling as big as ever, he begins.  
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome back! Today, I am happy to say that we have our new favorite Victor, the winner of The 74th Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen!” Loud applause. I have to go on now. Cinna gives my shoulders a gentle squeeze as I let go of him, walking to the center stage to stand beside Caesar. He smiles, grasping my shoulders and giving an enthusiastic wave out to the audience.  
I smile, falsely, giving the crowd a little wave. Following behind me is Haymitch and Cinna, my mentor and stylist. The crowd loves them. They love me. I was the Girl on Fire, one piece of District 12’s star-crossed lovers. A star, risen from the ashes of despair to become a Phoenix, illuminated in brilliant, radiant fire as a Victor. A tragic love lost.  
After an eternity, the 2 of us, Caesar and I, sit down in seats made of pure gold. Cinna and Haymitch move off to the sides. They are no longer necessary. Caesar beams at me, flashing pearly white teeth, a genuinely sympathetic smile under all the makeup and surgery.  
“Congratulations, Katniss! What an honor it is, to be one of only 3 Victors from District 12. How does it feel, knowing that you are now a living legend?” I steel myself to respond, the anxiety and guilt becoming overwhelming.  
“Oh you know, pretty great.” My throat feels like it’s burning, my words too weak for a living legend. There is some laughter from the crowd. They find my statement funny. Fuck them. Caesar smiles. He’s been here before, he knows the pain the tributes face. At least he’s sympathetic.  
He asks a few more questions, I respond. I don’t think my word choice is that inspired. They still laugh though. Caesar’s being all smiley, but I can tell he’s just buttering me up, giving me the easy questions first before he starts digging around in my head.  
“So, I’m sorry to have to ask this, but all of Panem wants to know; Peeta. How are you feeling about him?” He asks this and the crowd goes silent with anticipation. They want to gobble it up, all this drama. I just nod, swallow. I don’t want to acknowledge this to all of Panem. My feelings, the blame. I start to talk and open my mouth, but my words clog my throat up, only awkward sounds escaping. Caesar notices and puts up a hand. “It’s alright, just take it slow. Figure out what you want to say.”  
I nod at this, silent thanks. Compose myself a bit.  
“Um. I miss him. A lot. When the rules changed, I didn’t really know what to do. And Peeta, he just pulled out his knife,” I start to cry at this, my words breaking in my throat. I didn’t want this to happen, but I guess talking about Peeta was going to make this happen. I continue, my voice more distraught and wet as I cried. “He just pulled out the knife and I thought he was coming for me. I didn’t, I didn’t think. I just shot! He was just throwing it away and I shot him right through the throat.” I break down now, letting myself crumple. The crowd is murmuring. Shit. I didn’t want them to see me like this.  
“Ms. Everdeen, I’m sorry you had to go through this.” Caesar says, his voice filled with pity, devoid of his usual bounce and flair.  
I startle at a touch to my shoulders, look up. Haymitch stands above me, his worn face staring down at me. I get up and just let him hold me as I blubber into his shoulder, let him rub my back as tears stream into his fancy black jacket. Somehow I doubt he minds.  
The crowd is applauding us now. I hate them. I bet so many of them are crying now, holding each other as they watch the sole survivor of District 12 blubbering at the horrible tragedy of her life. And yet, they won’t do anything for the next one. They’ll just have someone new next year to cry and cheer over when they come out of the arena victorious and broken.  
I hate them.  
I pull myself off of Haymitch, wipe my face, sit back down in my seat. Caesar reaches across the divide between us, pats my leg in sympathy. I nod at him, forcing a little twinge at the corner of my lips. He’s only doing his best.  
Turning back to the audience, Caesar beams, igniting the floodlights in his smile. He makes some grand posturing and says a few words. The audience laughs. Then they start showing the reel of the game in all of its glory.  
The highlights show. Me and Prim, my volunteering to save her from the Games. The Chariots where me and Peeta got lit on fire. Me and Rue in the Games together. It’s mostly just highlights of me and Peeta near the end, before the final sickening scene of me killing Peeta. I look away at this.  
Then there is cheering. President Snow comes onto the stage and presents me with a crown. He smiles like a predator, all in the teeth. He places the crown atop my head to the wild cheering and delight of our audience.  
“Good job. You made this a very interesting year.” He says, before he clasps my hand and turns to the audience. I stand with him, take a bow. We pose, President and Victor, as they give me a standing ovation. The lights dim and the curtain closes.  
And that’s that. I’m finished. I get to go home.  
Caesar gives me one last reassuring piece of cliched advice and a shoulder squeeze before he leaves the stage. Snow was gone as soon as the curtains had closed, off the stage and into darkness.  
I lean into Haymitch as he holds me close, just letting me lay into his shoulder.  
“Let’s get you home, Sweetheart.” I nod into his shoulder. I’m tired of this.


	2. Several Months Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on out, we do everything in 3rd person, mostly because we'll expand the story beyond the viewpoint of Katniss.

Katniss was drunk as fuck. She had been in the forest outside District 12 for several hours and the light was beginning to wane. Snow had settled on the forest floor, dampening the sounds of the forest. She sat across an old abandoned log, holding a bottle loosely in her hand, which had been bandaged up quite recently. She had her bow by her side, an arrow beside it. Her quiver was almost empty, her clothes disheveled. She had cut her hair into a bob, dyed black. Beside her lay a turkey, killed by her in the early morning.  
She sighed, hurling the bottle further into the woods and picking herself up. Slinging the bow over her shoulder and hopping down off the log, she headed home, her walk tipsy.  
By nightfall, she had reached the edge of the District and climbed through the fence.She made her way into town. The streets were mostly empty, save for a few Peacekeepers. She headed to the house of Cray, knocking once on the door.  
Cray exits the building, disheveled and a little drunk. He looks at Katniss, squinting his eyes and holding himself warily. She drops the turkey on his doorstep with a thud. He points at her with the bottle in his hand.  
“You going to shoot at me again?” He asks. Katniss sighs, turns away and heads back into town. “You left a hole in my door! You going to pay for that?” He calls out. Katniss sighs, flipping him off.  
“Fuck you Cray.” She turns back around, heading off towards Victor’s Village. Cray sighs, hefting the turkey over his shoulder and heading back into his house.  
Victor’s Village was the same as usual. Snow was beginning to fall on the rooftops and the streets had been covered in a thin layer of ice. Only two houses were occupied: Haymitch’s and her own. Haymitch’s house was pitch black, either because he was already asleep or he was drinking in the dark. Katniss didn’t care.  
She entered her own house, dropping her bow and quiver by the door as she closed it behind her. There was the bustle of footsteps in the next room, some muttering. Katniss ignored this, heading up to her room. She opened her door and placed the bottle onto a little shelf, grabbing an identical (but full) bottle from her bedside table. Unscrewing the cap, she begins to drink, sitting down on the bed.  
A set of footsteps and a knock at the door.  
“Come in.” Katniss called out, straightening herself in a rigid and awkward manner, putting the bottle a little to the side. Prim enters, her long blonde hair tied back. She smiles. Katniss can tell it’s forced and apprehensive, concerned. Her eyes aren’t crinkling. Katniss half-smiles, looks away.  
“You didn’t stay for breakfast.” Prim says, sitting down beside her and reaching for Katniss’ bandaged hand. Katniss pulls away. “Give it to me, Katniss. I’m just making sure you aren’t getting infected.” Prim says reassuringly, taking Katniss’ hand and unwrapping the bandages. Katniss winces. “I want you to come home more. I miss you.” Prim says as she inspects the hand.  
“You also don’t want me to do anything dumb.” Katniss whispers. Prim nods, grabbing a new bandage from her bag and wrapping around Katniss’ hand.  
“Your hand is fine. And yes, I am worried about you being a fucking idiot.” Prim says, tying off the bandage. “Show me your neck.”  
“I’m alright.”  
“Well, I just want to see how it’s healing up.” Prim unwraps the scarf Katniss had around her neck, revealing deep rope burns cut into the skin. Katniss tries to pull away, but Prim grabs her by the shoulders. Prim feels the scar, making Katniss flinch at her touch. “It looks fine, you just need to stop scratching it so much.” Prim readjusts the scarf.  
“You need to stop mothering me, Prim. I can look after myself.” Katniss said. Prim shook her head, sighing. She grabbed Katniss’ unbandaged hand, clasping Katniss’ hand in her soft pair.  
“Okay. I just want you stay here tomorrow. At least for a little bit.” Stumbling over her words now, nervous. “It doesn’t have to be long, maybe just for an hour or two. And you don’t have to talk to me or anything like that, I just want to see you for a little bit. If that’s alright.” Prim was blushing now, sitting up and heading to the door.  
“Good night, Katniss.” Prim said, closing the door quietly behind her.  
Katniss sits alone through the rest of the night, finishing the bottle around 4.  
She sleeps 3 hours.

Morning. Katniss wakes up from her nightmares earlier than the rest of the household. She slinks down into the kitchen, tempering the hangover with more alcohol and some food. Taking her bow and quiver, she leaves the house.  
Prim is waiting outside, sitting in an ornate wooden chair with a china cup in hand and a plate of toast in her lap, bundled up in a massive coat. Katniss stops. Prim sits there, waiting, the cup poised at her lips. Katniss smiles, awkwardly, straightening herself up and trying to look casual.  
“Morning.” Katniss says, giving a little wave. Prim sips from her cup, casting a dissatisfied look Katniss’ way.  
“Going out?” She asks.  
“Yes.”  
“So you weren’t going to stay home today and be with me?”  
“I was going to come home early.” She’s lying through her teeth, can’t look at Prim. Prim looks at her through tired eyes. She’s heard these words before.  
“Please just stay home, just for a bit.”  
“I’d like to be alone.”  
“Come on Katniss. I just want to be with you.”  
Katniss looks at Prim, her sister. She’s worn out, stressed, wanting to reach out and hold Katniss but too afraid of rejection.  
Katniss walks past her sister, down the streets of Victors’ Village.  
Prim is left there, holding back tears as she collects herself. Only when Katniss’ footsteps had faded into the snow did she allow herself to cry, sitting back down into the chair and letting the tears drip down her face, gasping for air as she sobbed.  
Katniss didn’t look back. She couldn’t deal with the shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, sorry.


End file.
